June Event: Chaos, Chaos!

[lifeaftr_mods]

JUNE EVENT: CHAOS, CHAOS!

Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: It's just a little chaos...
When: June 17th - June 22nd
Where: Primarily Io, though also across Ensō and the islets if applicable
Warnings: Violence, possible body horror, potential anxiety and dysmorphia associated with body-swapping

Who Keeps Spinning the World Around?

The morning of June 17th, you'll probably notice things are amiss rather quickly. Your hands aren't your hands, or you're no longer in a squishy human flesh shape, or worse. Maybe your Lawful Good persona has plummeted into an outright Chaotic Evil one. Or maybe you wake up with a brand new power in your hands! Whatever the case is, no explanation is going to be immediately forthcoming, from Eleu or the Storyteller or anyone else. You'll have to figure out this mess on your own. Adjust to your new circumstances, master your new powers, and do what you can to make it through the next few days...because they're going to be some very interesting ones, for certain.

Catch Me If You Can!

Come June 20th, whether you're back to normal selves or not, Eleu has a job for you. A request, even. They're going to need your help to take care of this little problem and put a stop to all this absolute madness.

Those interested in helping can get in touch with any of the honeybees buzzing anxiously about Io, and they will redirect you to the Honeycomb, which has now been provided with several barrels of Honeycomb Sledgehammers for your use. You don't have to take one if you don't need it, but they make a very powerful weapon. Additionally, Eleu will take care to assure that, in exchange for your help, you may keep the Sledgehammer, if you so choose. Those interested in assisting may access our boss fight at its top-level below. This is a single thread with no order, but anyone may participate, regardless of their current state of being. Don't worry about how you contribute, or tag speed. Anyone who's concerned about being left out is welcome to reach out to us to handwave or backtag their involvement, if necessary!

The Clown Box is going to put up a fight, though. And it's not going to be pretty.

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] June 17th: Chaos begins!
[ ♆ ] June 21st: On the eve of the final battle, Storytelling commences.
[ ♆ ] June 22nd: Characters confront the Clown Box, and all parties return to normal.
[ ♆ ] June 25th: All parties become privy to the final outcome involving the Clown Box.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[bloodbathing]

[ The low growl wanes, and the Meta straightens slightly, satisfied with that response. They don't know why Washington was confused. He shouldn't have been. They haven't been Agent Maine in a long, long time. But it's as it should be now; Washington's cold tone is familiar, and the name is theirs.

As they turn to face Washington fully, they get a better look at him. More precisely, they get a better look at that armor. Their head cocks to the side just slightly — an instinctive motion rather than a deliberate one — and they begin to move closer.

Agent Maine approached all things directly, head held high and confidence (pride) in every step. The Meta does not. They keep their chin tucked and move at an angle, aiming to circle the man and examine his armor from all sides.

Walking directly up to Washington and peering down at his armor from up close is something a friend might do. But Washington is not their friend. Washington left them empty. The Meta knows better than to trust him. ]

[counterblows]

[Oh, god.]

[How could he have forgotten this? He's gotten too complacent. Naive, that's what it was. Naive. Thinking he could keep Maine in place by sheer force of will alone. Thinking he could keep him from moving forward, when he could stop this place from stealing away C.T., from stealing away Carolina - even if ended up giving her back.]

[So now he's being approached. Assessed.]

[(Is this it? Is this just how it's going to be from here on out?)]

[(Is he gone?)]

[Another failure, Washington. You said you'd be there, and you said you'd stop it, and you didn't, so it's really only your own fault that there's no time for the desolation in your guts.]

Back up.

[He snaps it out before he can reassess how he should be approaching this, stepping back. Hand going to his sidearm. Drop it. Doesn't draw it, just moves back. Naive. Out of practice. It's not instinct, responding to this, to the Meta. (And how well did that turn out the first time, Washington?)]

You need to back up.

[bloodbathing]

[ The Meta doesn't scurry backward like a dog. But they do stop their advance, standing still and curling their gloved hands into fists. They watch Washington carefully, waiting to see if he'll pull his sidearm. Waiting, but unafraid.

A bullet from that weapon (M6D Magnum, twelve round magazine, semi-auto or full-auto options) won't kill them. But it would hurt. They don't enjoy getting shot, and this relic they're wearing doesn't have the modifications to mitigate the bulk of the damage.

So they stop. They hiss through their teeth, voicing their displeasure at the command. They want to examine that armor. They want to know what it can do.

They could attack Washington. That's one way to discover his armor's capabilities. But…

Deliberately, the Meta takes one mockingly small step backward. Acknowledging Washington's authority while making it damn clear that they don't have to obey. They're working with Washington — they're not attacking Washington — because it benefits them. That's all. ]

[counterblows]

[Familiar.]

[It's too damn familiar. The expectation that they'll work together until they won't. The uneasy alliance. Order the Meta around like a fucking dog, like a wind-up toy, like it won't all go sideways at any moment. Like it's talking to something that can be controlled, and not a live wire ready to discharge at any fucking moment.]

[They're tolerating him. Tolerating.]

[He can't be gone. (Don't let him be gone.)]

[Swallow.]

[Where do you go from here?]

You just...get here? [Such a kind word for it.]

[bloodbathing]

[ It seems that Washington got the message. Good. In the space of the man's hesitation (slight, but perceptible), the Meta rakes their eyes over that armor. When did Washington get it? Where did he get it? The suit as a whole is too small for the Meta, but they could use its individual components. They could upgrade the flimsy carapace that belonged to Agent Maine.

They remember the last time Agent Maine wore this suit. They remember the bullets that penetrated his chest and neck. They remember his pain; his rage; his fear.

Washington speaks. The Meta considers the question. They remember so many things, information that echoes in the empty chamber of their skull. But this place? They don't know how they got here. They don't know what's going on.

Admitting as much to Washington would be stupid and unnecessary. So all they do is nod — a short, sharp motion. Yes, they just got here. Wherever the fuck "here" is. ]

[counterblows]

[What now. What now. Go to Carolina? Go to Tex? No. What good would that do either of them? Tex might remember coming up against the Meta and Washington both, and Carolina...she never had to meet them. She never had to reconcile her memory of Agent Maine, the teammate who caught a bullet for her and fought with her side by side, who she gave up her A.I. for, with what was made of him.]

[You've done this before, Agent Washington. Now carry this weight again. And again. And again.]

[They're looking at him like he's something to be taken apart and put back together under their own terms - not new. They're cooperating, but only barely - also not new.]

Great. [Said in a tone that implies this is anything but great.] Last thing you remember?

[How long are they going to play along with this interrogation game? Let's find out.]